button up shirt
guitar
short cropped hair
stubbled face
earnest with intent
it’s hot but we sit
in searing sun
gravelled voice lifting dust of his life
and we answer back
in waves of thought
placing puzzle pieces
on the grand
table of memories
our collective
experience
for who doesn’t have
something to add to the basket
when it comes around
each poignancy each
loss
dropped like a stone
and so we will
button on our armour
and ride our steed
No comments:
Post a Comment